


The Wisdom of Rivers

by edelweiss123



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Romance, S3 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edelweiss123/pseuds/edelweiss123
Summary: Azula doesn't get the chance to manipulate her brother before the battle in the caves beneath Ba Sing Se. Some things stay the same, but for others, it's a destiny... diverted.(S3 Zutara AU--originally posted on FF.net in 2010 as simply "Crossroads of Destiny", now being re-edited and rewritten)
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 156





	1. from every tempest she abides

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and published about 40k of a (planned) epic Zutara story over a decade ago. I don't remember if I simply lost interest, lost my outline, wrote myself into a corner, or some combination of those things, but that work has sat abandoned for long enough.
> 
> I don't know where I originally intended to take this story, and to be frank, that's probably best. I'm a much different person than I was as a teenager - - and now a better writer, I hope. I'm going to leave the original as it was on FF.net and post the revised chapters here.
> 
> I don't know when I'll break through to new content, but I'll try my best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It took forever and a day for the canyons and coasts to erode away  
>  By the weight of the ocean's cyclical motion they swayed  
> And though the eons may pass as slow as the sands of an hourglass  
> Every grain that we've counted  
> Claims that even the mountains can change  
> Let it come down, let it come down  
> Let it make in you a new river_
> 
> _I know the winds from the south have  
>  The waves riled up like a hungry mouth  
> And your stomach goes hollow at the  
> Thought that it could swallow you whole  
> Well, it'll rain for forty days and nights,  
> And nothing you do can slow the rising tides  
> But the river takes her shape from every tempest she abides  
> And like her, you'll be made new again_
> 
> \- New River, The Oh Hellos

Trying to determine how his life had led up to this moment was like trying to find where the ocean was born. No matter how far one backtracked--beyond estuary and river, up through streams and waterfalls and brooks, at no single point could one say ‘here is the origin--all the seas flow from here.’ Because there was always more water further up the stream, until it was snowmelt in the high mountains or lakes trapped deep in stone. Maybe the ocean was just born wherever and whenever the water in the air met enough heat to coax out the rain.

And so maybe, like the rain, this potential had always been there--it had just been waiting for the right storm to precipitate into something recognizable.

From the very first time he saw her, barely able to bend; when he bound her to a tree, helpless, but she stood proud and defiant against him anyway; every subsequent time they’d fought and how each time she’d improved--yes, each of those times he’d felt _something_.

It was easy to brush that off, though--he was a teenage boy stuck on a boat with nothing but his soldiers and his uncle for company, of course he would _notice_ that a nice looking girl… existed. After all, her existence was his greatest obstacle to capturing the Avatar other than the Avatar himself--for all that the boy was the more skilled bender, she was five times more ferocious. And her being pretty was just an objective _fact_ \--it didn’t _mean_ anything.

The North Pole was his first conscious clue of what that _something_ he felt might be. The fight had been desperate on both sides-- _blood racing, bending challenged like it hadn’t been in years, and despite the cold biting every inch of him he’d never felt so_ alive--but at the time, he’d been far more focused on absconding with the unconscious monk. 

_(So what if he'd still taken the time to move the girl from where she’d slumped over, settled her carefully in the recovery position on the soft grass... She’d been a worthy opponent, and he was an honorable victor. That was all.)_

His recollections of that event _after_ the fact, however, had been focused around… _other_ aspects. 

_The look in her glacial eyes as she froze him to the wall--what if the sun hadn't risen for another ten minutes? What if she got up in his face like she did before, put her hands on him?_

_What if they had kept fighting until they could no longer bend, reduced to grappling across the soft grass--would he have pinned her? Or, he'd been so exhausted then--would she have pinned him? What else might have happened…?_

His dreams seemed to have a pretty insistent opinion on what _could_ have happened next, at least. 

_(Small favor, then, that he was used to waking abruptly from sleep, sweaty and ashamed--though this new flavor of humiliation at least didn’t involve reliving his public mutilation.)_

And maybe he thought about it in his waking hours, too. He had had far too much free time to think while stuck on a raft, then drifting aimlessly across the Earth Kingdom--even he couldn’t ruminate on his failures _all_ the time.

So yes, he’s thought about _this_ before. Thought about _her_.

But it isn’t until he’s stuck in this underground cave with her, for hours and hours, with no option to run and no option to fight, that he finally _gets it_.

_(He’d recoiled, when Song had tried to touch his scar, and he knew why--the poor girl was trying to empathize, show her own scars, thought she was just like him--but Lee was a lie. He couldn’t handle that false comfort.)_

But Katara…when _she_ bore her wounds to him, they were wounds of the heart. The same ache of loss he carried inside, that he, for whatever reason, felt compelled to bare to her in return.

And _in_ return, instead of the scorn he likely deserved--how could he not, when he’d shown her nothing but unkindness?--she offered not just empathy, but _absolution_.

For Katara...when _she_ placed her soft, warm fingers on his ruined red face, thumb brushing his dry lips, knew exactly who it was she was touching. Who, exactly, she was offering to _heal_.

_Could she really…? Might he really, finally be free from..._

_Oh_ , was all he could think as his eyes slid shut, breath caught in his chest from the feather-light contact on his skin. Her voice, rich and melodic, trickled past his ear like the element she controlled so well.

His scar. It was his mark of shame, of disgrace, he had told her. 'The Mark of the Banished Prince.' And she had offered to remove it, to lift it from his face forever, just like that.

He held no delusions to the extent of her offer. Removing his scar wouldn't make him any less of a fugitive or traitor. It wouldn't undo his disgrace. It wouldn't return his father's approval and love, if he had even had it in the first place. It wouldn't give 'Prince Zuko' his life back.

But maybe that was okay. His life as a prince hadn't been very pleasant, anyway.

And as 'Lee' he’d been… _happy_ , for once. At least a little...

_Never forget who you are…_

But ‘Lee’ was a _lie_.

His mother's words, so comforting in the past, now tore at him. Could he really forsake everything he was, just like that? Would removing his scar change the person underneath?

No.

But hadn't the person underneath already changed anyway? He certainly didn't feel the same as the Prince he knew and hated…

Maybe he felt more like… the Prince he had forgotten about. The boy he had been when his mother had actually given him those fervent words of guidance, before… everything happened. Maybe that was the 'who' he was supposed to be true to, not the banished Prince questing for his honor.

But then, was he really that person again? Was he really still himself? What did all of those words even mean? What was he, the Prince, 'Zuko', made up of? Who was he supposed to be?

Confused, frustrated, his thoughts swarmed and chased each other in circles around his mind, refusing to settle and give him any definitive answers. Abruptly, Katara's hand withdrew from his face and he opened his eyes again. She continued speaking—had it really only been seconds that his eyes were shut?—and though his mind was like a swarm of vulture-wasps, he fixed himself upon every word she spoke.

She had reached down into her shirt and, reverently, withdrew a small blue and white vial capped with a cork decorated with a crescent moon.

"This is water from the Spirit Oasis," she informed him, and _of course_ it was. 

With a muted 'pop', Katara uncorked the vial and coated her hand in a thin film of water. It glowed blue.

"It has special healing properties," she told him, staring calmly at her hand, then his face. She reached towards it, and his breath caught again. "I can—"

But before he could decide anything, before she had time to heal him, before she even had time to finish her explanation, their conversation was cut short and the moment was ended.

"KATARA!" The water instantly flew back into its container and Katara jumped back guiltily from him at the sound of her name being yelled. Zuko turned to see the Avatar and his Uncle, of all people, come walking through a gaping hole in the wall that hadn't been there a second ago.

At the moment, the waterbender and the monk had eyes only for each other as they rushed to meet each other in a reunited embrace. Zuko, however, was busy voicing his surprise.

"Uncle?" The man in question merely gave one of his trademark mellow grins and strode regally over to him.

"Ah, Prince Zuko. I am happy to see you are well. I—"

"Wait! Uncle, what—"

"—is HE doing here! ?" Two voices yelled in tandem. Zuko turned to glare at the source of the other voice, and the Avatar met him with equal anger.

"What am I doing here?" Zuko asked incredulously.

"Yeah, what are you doing here with _her_?" Suddenly his eyes went wide and he snapped around to his companion. "Katara, what are you doing here with him?" Zuko's shout drowned out Katara's angry "What?"

"WE were both thrown into this PRISON CELL, you halfwit! Do you think I chose to be trapped in a cave like this? How can you even blame—"

"Children," Iroh's calm voice, laced with authority, cut across the room and resonated deeply in the cave. Zuko felt a pang of embarrassment and shame at the term, though his Uncle didn't always need to address him as such to make him feel like a child. "Please, don't argue. We do not have the time for such petty things right now. We need to focus on first, getting out of here, and then finding a way to stop Azula from taking over Ba Sing Se. And the best chance we have at doing that is if we all work _together_."

Us work with them? Zuko almost voiced the thought, but in a rare moment of restraint, decided against it. Hadn't he been ready just seconds before to accept aid from Katara?

_(Even if he still had no idea why she’d offered her help in the first place.)_

Across the room, the Avatar sighed and nodded. "You're right—I don't think we have any other choice." His face was grim, but accepting. Zuko scowled. Working with the girl was one thing, but the Avatar… He finally grunted his approval in the direction of his uncle, who smiled.

"Excellent. Now then, if our earthbending friend would be so kind as to lead the way out of here…?" Iroh trailed off in a half-question. The Avatar nodded and turned, leading them to the opposite side of the cave. Katara threw one, brief look over her shoulder at Zuko, then followed right behind the monk. Zuko sighed and kept pace beside his uncle.

He’d given up the chase. For good, this time. And yet it still felt… wrong, somehow, to be working together with the Avatar instead of chasing him. He didn't like this. Not at all. There was a difference between letting someone go and actively helping them escape. If everything he had done up to this point hadn't made him a traitor against his country, this certainly would. But what other choice did he have?

~o0o~

As it turned out, he did have another choice, but it hadn't been presented to him until he was already caught up in the heat of battle—not exactly the best time to make a decision of any great magnitude, but he managed to boil it down into simple terms in his head:

The Avatar and his Uncle…

…or Azula and his country.

He dodged a flying fist of rock and sent a volley of flame in return. Jumping in the air to avoid an erupting pillar of stone, he turned halfway in the air and sent a flaming kick towards a Dai Li's head. He landed a little unevenly, but managed to right himself just in time to duck another stone glove sent his way. Growling, he sent out three quick, successive bursts of fire at the bender sending the gloves at him and managed to clip him on the arm. The man stopped for just a second to pat out the flames with an earth-coated fist, but a second was all Zuko needed. Another burst of fire, and the man was down.

Zuko took the momentary reprieve in battle to look around him. Azula and the Avatar were fighting one-on-one. Or rather, Azula was shooting huge blue jets of fire every half-second and the Avatar was dodging them. To most people it would have appeared as though the monk was losing, and badly, but Zuko knew first hand just how good the little baldy was at evasive maneuvering.

Katara was fighting by the pools, surrounded by at least ten Dai Li. And she appeared to be holding her own, if not winning. And Uncle was doing the same, fighting at least twice that many.

Zuko just barely avoided the Dai Li agent that exploded out of the earth in front of him, and threw a reactionary punch at the man's gut. And, unfortunately for the earthbender, that fist was also coated in fire. Dropping the man and darting away to a more defensible position, Zuko readied himself for another attack.

He knew he should wipe his mind of all but the fight before him. He knew he shouldn't be thinking of stupid things like destiny and purpose when his life was on the line. But his racing thoughts just would not let him go.

It almost felt as if everything he had lived through—survived, really—in the past three years had been leading up to this moment. He knew, just knew, that the outcome of this battle would determine his fate. He even knew what two fates he had to choose from.

The problem was, he had no idea which one to take.

The Avatar. Uncle. Katara. Redemption. Treachery to his country, his father, and his birthright.

Azula. Father. Redemption. His country. His honor. Treachery to his Uncle.

Either way, he would end up a traitor to someone. Either way, he would turn his back on his blood. Either way, he would lose some part of himself that he valued.

Each choice felt wrong.

Each choice felt right.

He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at that moment.

He could really never win, could he?

But, if that was true, then could he lose, either?

_Yes_ , his mother's voice whispered in his head. He could lose himself. Remember who you are. Not the Prince of the Fire Nation, not the banished son, not 'Zuko' or 'Lee', but _him_ : what choice would he make? What kind of man did he _want_ to be? What choice was right?

_It’s time to choose good, Zuko._

"Zuko!" Azula shouted. The Dai Li had ganged up on the Avatar, and his sister had shifted over to fight the waterbender, who had driven off or incapacitated all of her other opponents.

"With your help, we can defeat them! You can still redeem yourself in the eyes of our father!" And she lunged for Katara with two blue daggers of fire.

Azula always lies…

Remember who you are…

It was the perfect opening: both girls were faced away from him, Azula attacking, Katara defending.

And he didn't have some great, glowing epiphany, some moment of enlightenment—he let his instincts guide him, let his body move before his brain could mess it up. He just remembered who he was.

And he chose.

He sent a ferocious blast of flame towards the girl, and she dodged neatly, a feminine squawk of surprised outrage flying from her lips, followed closely by a yelled accusation.

"YOU!"

There was no going back now.

~o0o~

A great peal of thunder crashed down around them. It sounded like screeching metal, as if two Fire Navy ships had somehow collided at great speed.

But they weren't on the ocean, or even by the shore. They were dashing across the courtyard, about to soar away from Ba Sing Se as fast as the giant bison could carry them. They were fleeing—both from the storm behind them and the conquered stronghold.

It seemed to Zuko that running was all he did, these days.

"Everyone in the saddle, now!" The water tribe boy, (Sokka, he thought,) commanded. "We need to get out to sea before they catch up with us." Zuko was already there, as were the Earth King and his odd pet. The little earthbender girl hopped up first, relinquishing her place at Sokka's side and crawling over to sit at his right, a few safe feet away from him. Then, carefully, Katara came next, still cradling the small unconscious monk in her arms. She sat down across from him, but did not look at him. It might have been the few drops of rain that had just started to fall, but he thought he saw her crying.

Sokka hopped on the bison's head, and urged the creature into doubletime. The stormy air around them was tense, and thick. Zuko's mind clouded over darkly.

He had made his choice. He had, without thought, aimed a blast of fire at his own sister. He had made it clear which side he would be fighting on—his uncle's side, the Avatar's side.

And then they had lost.

_Congratulations, Zuko,_ Azula's snide voice mocked him in his head. _You threw away your very last chance for redemption. I guess the life of a peasant and a traitor were just too appealing for you. But, it's not as if I expected anything less from a failure._

Had this really been right? What had he done, really, in choosing this side? How could this be right when he felt so angry, so depressed, so ashamed at losing?

_Don't worry, Zuzu. You won't have to live with your shame for long—I will hunt you down and end it for you._

Yes, he thought bitterly. He was sure they’d be seeing her again very soon.

What had he _done_? Was he crazy or something? He had just thrown away everything he had ever strived for! And for what? So he could be hunted down alongside the Avatar instead of hunting for him? Because his life had just been too good to stay that way for long? Because fate decided that he would always be on the losing side?

"This is insane…" he muttered to himself, but the earth girl must have had really good ears, because she replied,

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But once you're with us for awhile, you'll get used to it." Zuko blinked, then shook his head.

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?" He asked heatedly. The girl just gave a lazy shrug.

"Eh, the constant flying, being chased down by crazy Fire Nation Royalty, fighting against terrible odds—now that you're on our side, you'll get your fill of all of that and more." She narrowed her eyes, and, still facing somewhat away from him, jabbed her finger in his face. "Why, what were you talking about?" He scowled and carefully pushed her arm down from his face.

"Yes, I meant this. All of this" and he waved his arms around, though even he wasn't quite sure what all he was referring to, "is insane! What was I thinking? Why did I… we lost, and now we're running away, and Uncle…" he trailed off quietly.

It had all happened so fast. One minute, he and his Uncle had been waiting to serve tea to the Earth King, and the next, he was fighting his sister and way too many earthbenders, and then the Avatar had fallen—just like that, Azula could beat him, even in the Avatar State—and then they had been backed into a corner and Uncle had told them to-- _Run! I'll hold them off while you escape!_ And they had left him. He had left his Uncle in the clutches of his sister—to be captured or worse—while he ran off like a coward. He had abandoned him. Again. Only this time, he knew there was a very good chance he would never see him again.

"Hey," the earthbender's voice, softer than before, cut into his thoughts. "Don't worry about your Uncle. He's tough. He'll be alright." She wore a mysterious little smile, but her eyes were still blank. And he realized, with a start, that she was blind.

"You're blind," he blurted out before his mind could catch up with his actions. Annoyance flitted across her features before changing to surprise.

"Wait, what? I'm not—" she waved her arm in front of her face and her mouth dropped open in mock horror. "OH MY GOSH, I CAN'T SEE! SOMEBODY HELP, I'M BLIND!" Zuko snorted and crossed his arms across his chest, and the blind girl dropped back down into her seat and gave him a brittle smile.

"Never gets old," she told him.

"Ah, yeah…" What did he say to that? How could she be so cavalier about their situation? Had she just been trying to lighten the mood? Well, if she had, it hadn't really worked. Looking around the saddle, the Earth King still looked extremely uncomfortable, the bear was asleep, Sokka hadn't even turned around during their whole exchange, and Katara was just casting wary glances at the two of them in between staring helplessly at the boy still cradled in her lap.

Zuko's philosophy was, 'if you can't think of something to say, don't say anything at all'. So he didn't, and after a long moment of silence the girl just shrugged and turned her blank gaze away from him to stare at, literally, nothing.

It was quiet then for awhile after that, despite the storm raging just behind them. Everyone appeared to have lost themselves in their own thoughts, and Zuko was no different. He just kept asking himself, what now? but could never think of any definitive answer. He almost felt like he shouldn't, yet, not until his mind was calm and he could make a clear decision. Hadn't his Uncle just been telling him that he needed to think things through?

His Uncle…

He couldn't help but wonder if the earthbender's reassurances were true. Would his Uncle really be okay? No, he found himself immediately thinking. Azula has him now…But, then again, it was just so hard to imagine the man actually losing, to anyone. Even if he was captured, his Uncle had already proven he was more than capable of handling himself.

But, then again, again, this was no troop of earthbending soldiers—this was Azula, his sister, the prodigy.

And, this time, Zuko wouldn't be there to stop Iroh's hands from being crushed.

"Toph," Katara's voice was choked and rough from crying, and Zuko was startled out of his thoughts by the sudden sound. The earthbender—Toph, he now knew—perked up and turned her head in the waterbender's general direction. Katara cleared her throat and started again. "Toph, it's starting to rain harder. I need you to take Aang and wrap him up in some blankets—keep him warm." Her eyes flickered over to Zuko nervously for just a second, so quick that he almost thought he had imagined it—but then her focus was back on Toph. The blind girl shifted forward on her hands and knees towards Katara, who carefully transferred the Avatar off her lap and into Toph's grasping hands. "I'm going to try and bend the rain away from us, okay? We can't have anybody getting sick like last time." Toph cocooned the sleeping monk in a swath of blankets, then wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't worry, Sweetness. I'll keep Twinkletoes warm." Sweetness? Twinkletoes? He felt a smile working its way onto his face despite himself.

_Oh, everyone has nicknames, Zuzu. It's just part of being a family._ His smile changed to a scowl. If he couldn't even get away from his sister in his own head, how was he supposed to avoid her in the real world? (He also briefly wondered if this meant he really was crazy, but decided that that particular avenue of thought might not be very healthy at the moment.)

Meanwhile, Katara had positioned herself near the center of the saddle. She stood up on her knees as tall as she could go, and began slowly weaving her hands through the air. The rain suddenly stopped falling on him, hitting the air a foot above his head and then just sliding off around them, over the side of the saddle.

It looked like tedious work—she just kept moving her hands high above her head in slow, twisting motions, repeating the same movements over and over. Sweat beaded at her brow, and she grunted a little as she shifted her legs to get more comfortable. The very tiniest hint of pink stuck out of her mouth, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she concentrated. He watched, mesmerized, as her hands seemed to push at the sky, to bat away each individual raindrop with her slender brown hands.

And when her eyes darted down to check on all of the occupants of the saddle and landed on him, he realized—too late!—that he had been caught staring.

"Ah!"

"Ack! Katara!"

"Hey! What's the big idea?"

Shouts of indignant surprise came from all over the saddle as the rain suddenly fell on them again, now harder than ever. Zuko broke his gaze away from the waterbender—but not before she could send a nasty glare his way—and he tried to make the sudden guilty movement look like he was flinching from the rain. He looked pointedly away from her, and the rain lifted from them seconds later.

"Oops! Sorry guys. Guess I got a little distracted." Her words were dry and sharp, and Zuko told himself that his now-burning ears were just from the sudden cold of the rain, and nothing more.

But instead of making everyone more depressed and grumpy than they had been, the dump of cold water seemed to liven the dark mood that had settled over them.

Or, he supposed, it could have had more to do with the words Sokka shouted just a minute later.

"Look! There's the coast! I think I can see Dad's fleet!" Katara turned carefully, still bending the rain away, and squinted at the horizon.

"I don't know, Sokka," she said doubtfully. "I don't see anything. I think it's just the light reflecting off the water." Sokka rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air, then pointed with both arms towards some distant speck on the water.

"No, look! Right there, see? See that little bump waaaaay out there? It's him! It has to be!"

A few drops of rain began leaking through Katara's barrier as her concentration wavered. "Hmm… no, I still don't see…"

"Wait!" Toph piped up, and leaned forward to stare excitedly out at the ocean. "I think I see it!"

"See?" Sokka started triumphantly. "I'm not the only one who—oh." His face fell into a flat glare, which he directed at the now grinning earthbender. Zuko himself had to hold back a chuckle, and he saw Katara smile for the first time since the crystal cave.

Sokka muttered grumpily and turned back around to work the reigns. "You know, one of these days, I'm not going to fall for that." Toph just stretched out beside Aang again and smiled.

"Don't count on it, Snoozles."

Idly, Zuko wondered if he would get a nickname, too.

~o0o~

"See? I told you! I told you! Never doubt a warrior's sharp eye!" Sokka crowed as, twenty minutes later, the speck that none of them could see eventually grew closer and took on the shape of about twenty or so small Water Tribe vessels that were, Zuko noted with some worry, surrounding a Fire Navy ship.

Katara just rolled her eyes, and Zuko had a feeling that it would be a long time before Sokka let anyone forget about this.

"That's great," Toph drawled, "but it's your sharp brain that we've been worried about."

Sokka dropped the reigns and turned around with an indignant look plastered on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean? !" He screeched. Toph just feigned indifference—(surprisingly easy to do when you were blind)—and picked her teeth with her fingernail.

"Well, if you can't figure it out, then I guess we've got more to worry about than I thought." Before the heated argument could go any further, though, Katara intervened.

"Look, guys, we're almost there!" She smiled brightly, her face lighting up at the prospect of shelter, or perhaps seeing her father again.

Zuko, on the other hand, suddenly felt very, very nervous. It wasn't as if he hadn't known where they were going, but he hadn't really thought about it, his mind too occupied with other things.

_Don't worry, my nephew,_ he imagined his Uncle laughing, a _lovely girl is just taking you to meet her father. Just be a gentleman and I'm sure everything will be fine._

Zuko groaned, which earned him an inquisitive look from the 'lovely girl' in question. Somehow, he didn't think any amount of politeness would make the Water Tribe warrior want to kill him less, even if Zuko wasn't interested in his daughter.

_Oh, so you're not interested in her? Could've fooled me._

He didn't know what frightened him more—the fact that those words rang true, or that he couldn't tell whether it was his or Azula's voice the thought had come in.

He rubbed his forehead in agitation. He didn't have time to be worried about stupid things like that right now—he had bigger problems at hand.

Like figuring out what he was going to say when a small army of angry Water Tribesman asked what the crown Prince of the Fire Nation was doing on their ship. Well, ex-prince, anyway. But he didn't think that they'd care much for semantics. Or anything else he had to say.

But still, he needed to come up with something to tell them. He needed to give them a good, solid explanation as to why he had switched sides, and why it would be in everyone's best interest not to throw him overboard, or stick his head on a pike.

He drew a blank. Growling, he thumped his head onto his knees. Why was he always so horrible with words? Hell, he didn't even have an answer for himself when he tried to figure out why he had done what he did!

Breathe, Zuko. He reminded himself. Calm.

Okay. So, in a nutshell, he had been given the choice to fight with his sister against his uncle and the avatar, or vice versa. He chose his uncle, and then he lost. And then he’d come along with the Avatar's group because… well…

It was the right thing to do?

No, that was a stupid answer. And he wasn't even sure if it was true, if he was being honest with himself. He still wasn't sure how he felt about any of this, let alone if it was right or wrong.

Which wasn't good, because he knew that if he was anything less than convincing in his pleas, he wouldn't be allowed to remain with them.

Wait. Why did he want to stay with them again?

Safety in numbers, the enemy of my enemy is my friend…

Those were definitely some good reasons, but they weren't good enough to win over the Water Tribesmen. They weren't even really good enough for him—he had always preferred to do things alone.

So why stay then? He couldn't really think of one, really good reason to stay, but maybe he could think of it from a different angle: if he didn't stay, what would he do?

Run? Run where? He was a wanted fugitive now, in every nation. Ba Sing Se had been _it_ , the last place to hide. He had nowhere else to _go_. 

And even if he _did_ find, by some miracle, somewhere else to hide, what then? Would he hide out in some teashop for the rest of his life? He scowled.

No. No more teashops for him.

Then what did he really want to do? What was his first priority?

Uncle. His fists balled tightly. Yes, rescuing his uncle was definitely at the top of his list. And having the help of the Avatar and his allies would certainly make that task a lot more feasible.

But after that? After his Uncle was safe?

He didn't know. He sighed. Well, he had done pretty well so far flying by the seat of his pants, all things considered. He decided he would stay with the Avatar at least until he rescued his Uncle, and wing it from there.

Okay, so that covered his reason for staying. So now, what would be their reason for letting him stay?

"Sokka…" Katara began nervously, and Zuko's train of thought derailed. The warrior in question just shot a grim look at her, then focused back out on the bay.

"Don't worry, Katara. It's… look, there's only one ship, and it's surrounded… and I don't see any fighting, so Dad must have captured it, or something."

"Wait, what?" Toph perked up, confused. Obviously, she could not see the Fire Navy ship they were approaching.

"It's captured," Zuko spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. He had to swallow past the lump in his throat to continue. "The engine is shut off, which they wouldn't do if they were surrounded by enemy vessels. Not to mention, if they were fighting, we'd be able to see it from here." To punctuate his statement, he lit a small fire on the end of his finger and flared it.

Sokka gave a small frown, but his face loosened as he turned back around to work the reigns. Katara also looked relieved, although the expression didn't develop until after he'd snuffed his fire out. Toph developed an odd, calculating look on her face.

"So, wait, we're landing on a Fire Navy ship, right?" Katara looked towards Sokka, who gave a hesitant nod.

"Right. We should be landing in a few minutes," Katara reassured her, though she herself looked nervous again for some reason. Toph slowly began to grin.

"And those things are made of metal, right?" Zuko frowned. He couldn't see where she was going with this.

"Yes," he answered. With the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Avatar, she punched the air.

"AWESOME! I hate wooden boats! I can't see anything on them!" Zuko just blinked.

"But, you can't see anything, ever," he told her. She scoffed and lifted one of her legs, exposing her bare, dirt-crusted foot.

"I'm an earthbender. I see, well, I feel things through the earth with my feet." She dropped her leg and leaned back in the saddle. "But a wooden boat isn't made of earth—I can barely see when I'm on it at all."

"But, metal isn't earth either," he said, still confused.

"Sure it is," she shrugged, "it's just really refined." Zuko raised his only eyebrow.

"If metal is still earth, then why can't you bend it?" She grinned ferociously.

"Who says I can’t?" His eyebrow went up even further. Well that was… terrifying.

Suddenly, rain was falling on them again, but they were far enough away from the storm now that it was only a few drops. Katara had whipped around to face Toph, astonishment written all over her face.

"Wait, really? Since when?" Toph cracked her knuckles.

"Since yesterday." Katara leaned in, excited.

"So how did you do it? Have you been working on it, or did it just, come to you?" Toph's smug grin dimmed a little, and she chuckled nervously.

"Well, remember how I got that letter from my parents to go and meet them?"

"Yeah," Katara frowned.

"Well, apparently, they had decided I needed to be dragged back home. So when I walked through the door of the place I was supposed to meet them, a big, giant metal trap sprung up around me. They weren't even there—just the two blockheads they sent to capture me!" She finished angrily.

"Your parents put you in a cage?" Katara shouted, unbelieving.

"They sent bounty hunters after you?" Zuko questioned. Maybe he would get along better with this group than he thought.

"Wait, so that was why you were way out there when Aang and I found you?" Sokka had turned around in the saddle, his eyes wide.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Toph huffed, waving her hand to dismiss their concerns. "But I busted out, and now I have a sweet new bending technique, so it's really not a big deal." Katara's face softened and she put a comforting hand on the blind girls' shoulder.

"Toph, I'm so sorry…" Toph squirmed under the contact, looking uncomfortable.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetness. Like I said, it's not a big deal." Katara frowned.

"But your parents—"

"—are stuffy, selfish, narrow-minded jerks that don't know how to take a hint. They can just keep wasting money sending people after me for all I care—I'll just fight 'em off. I'm never going back." Toph crossed her arms and lowered her head, signaling that there would be no budging her on this. Katara sighed and dropped her hand, then, looking out over the ocean to gauge how close they were to the ship, drew the Avatar into her lap.

And they were close. A minute later, the Sky Bison had come upon the ship, and the Water Tribe warriors were waving them down. As soon as they landed, everyone but Zuko jumped—or tumbled, in the bear's case—off the saddle and a flurry of greetings and questions and embraces ensued. The firebender just tried to sink into the saddle, praying that no one had seen him yet.

But, as always, luck frowned upon him, and he heard a deep, male voice question:

"Who's that still up in the saddle?"

"What? Oh! Get down here, Zuko!" Of course Katara had shouted his name. His, very obviously, Fire Nation name. Loud enough for everyone on the ship to hear. He sighed.

Well, here goes everything.

He threw a leg over the saddle and hopped down into a group of people. And it was only then, surrounded by dozens of suddenly very angry men with spears and clubs, that he realized he still hadn't come up with a reason they shouldn't gut him.


	2. blood and water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fffff it's so hard at some points to decide what to keep and what to redo--I'll read some things and think 'wow, good job baby me, couldn't have written it better myself' but other parts are just UGH.
> 
> I think I made Zuko even MORE angsty than the 2010 version, somehow, which I didn't think was possible. Still 100% as awkward, though, which is the important bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The blood of the battlefield is thicker than the water of the womb_

Attention, Zuko decided, was vastly overrated. Because at the moment, he would have loved nothing more than to have all eyes off him, instead of trying bore holes through him… which, he supposed, was at least a step up from the Water Tribesmen using their spears to bore holes through him, but they were probably getting closer and closer to that point as he stood there gaping like a parrot-fish.

"Ummm…" _I_ _c an explain?_ No, that sounded too guilty.  _ Let me just say something before you geld me _ … NO, no, definitely not. Didn't want to give them any ideas…

Sokka intervened. Throwing an arm around the man who was obviously the leader of the group, he waved his other hand between him and Zuko.

"Dad, meet the Angry Jerk—Angry Jerk, Dad," Sokka looked inordinately pleased with himself, and Zuko forced himself to remember that the boy was a potential ally now, and that it wouldn't really help his situation if he knocked him upside the head. Then, it clicked:

_ Wait, DAD? _ Great. He had been chasing the  _ Chieftain's  _ children all across the world. Maybe if he jumped overboard now, he could still swim to shore…

"It's okay, Dad, Prince Zuko is on our side," Katara said a little angrily.  _ Prince _ ? Zuko almost choked. She couldn't have left that little tidbit out? Zuko saw all of the men grip their weapons a little tighter and lean forward a bit. He whipped his eyes around to glare at the big-mouthed girl, but her own gaze was focused on her father, daring him to oppose her. Zuko was a little taken aback by the expression. She was defending him…?

"Katara," the man started, even and deep—the voice of a ruler, "I'm not sure why you think a Fire Nation Royal would be on our side, but I will not have him on my ship, with my men and my children." Zuko tried not to wince. He had expected as much, but the refusal of approval from the man still stung deeply, the familiar hurt burrowing into an already open wound.

Katara, still holding the unconscious Avatar in her arms, narrowed her eyes and took a step towards her father. "I’m sorry you feel that way, but that's  _ not  _ for you to decide, Dad." The man's eyes widened in shock—he obviously expected to be obeyed. All of the other Water Tribe men seemed stunned by her attitude as well, even her own brother.

Zuko couldn't believe it either. Despite the fact that she had been the first one to extend the offer of working together, he hadn't thought she would accept his change of heart so easily or quickly. She was even willing to go against her own father to do so.

And something about that, about how she stood up to her father to do what she thought was right, tickled a memory in the back of his mind. But before he could think any more on it, the conversation resumed.

The Chief seemed to have recovered mostly from his shock, and frowned deeply at Katara.

"Katara, you may not like it, but it  _ is  _ my place to decide what's best for my peoples' safety, and for yours." At his last word, Katara's glare turned very, very cold. Zuko shivered. This was the sort of expression she had usually reserved for him, but it seemed more intense when seen without the heat of his own glare to match. It was, however, a look that fit perfectly on the face of a girl who had just kicked the ass of a dozen fully-grown, fully trained earthbenders, convinced her former enemy to aid her, and  _ oh yeah _ , maybe-possibly  _ raised the fucking dead _ .

(He was really, really trying not to think about how the Avatar had not been breathing until she’d healed him. For all that he’d chased them, for all that he still had doubts that he’d made the right choice down in those caves, he didn’t want to know that joining Azula instead would have made him party to the murder of a  _ child _ .)

Simply put, the look on Katara’s face said very clearly that right now? She was just  _ done _ .

"If I was a child? Maybe you  _ would _ have a say. But after everything I’ve done?” She took a step forward. “You can't decide what's best for me anymore—what's best for the  _ world _ ." She squeezed the boy in her arms tightly. "Aang needs a firebending teacher.” She jerked her head towards Zuko, who really wished she would have talked to him first before making those kinds of statements because he hadn’t actually promised  _ anything _ \--

”So, unless you can think of another firebender who'd be willing to do the job, Zuko stays with us." Zuko sighed silently. Well, at least that was a concrete reason to keep him around. He’d been willing to do a lot more morally questionable things to help himself and his Uncle in the past--what was one more?

(As they said, ‘in for a copper, in for a crown.’ It’s not as if he could say, when he was eventually brought to court for his crimes, ‘oh, sure, I aided the Fire Nations’ greatest enemy, but don’t worry, I never showed him how to throw a fireball.’ Treason laws weren’t exactly written in shades of grey.)

The chief seemed to be at a loss for words, as did most of the rest of the group. Tense silence hung in the air for the space of a minute, then one of the other Water Tribe men sighed and disengaged from his place in the huddle. He placed his burnt arm on the Chief's unoccupied shoulder, and turned to face them.

"You kids look tired. Why don't I go ahead and show you to your rooms? You can get some rest, and we can talk in the morning." The man glanced at his leader from the corner of his eyes, as if waiting for approval. The Chief caught his glance after a moment, and nodded dumbly, still obviously disbelieving of what had just happened.

The taller man seemed to relax a little, and dropped his arm from the Chiefs' shoulder. He waved their group forward.

"C'mon, kids, this way." The man began walking them towards the stairs that led to the rooms below deck, and Katara brushed past her father without so much as a glance. Sokka followed her, still looking nonplussed at her attitude, and the man watched his children go with a hopeless look on his face. The Prince looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. Toph sidled up to him, arms crossed and silent, and Zuko was faintly amused to see that the Earth King had also followed along in the group of 'kids'. Though, from what little he had seen, the term fit the deposed monarch quite nicely.

"What about Appa?" Toph spoke up for the first time since arriving.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of him," the man reassured her. He looked thoughtful. "We'll have to find some way to hide him though—can't have another Fire Navy ship spotting him on board. Capturing just this one was hard enough." He chuckled humorlessly, and an uneasy feeling settled into Zuko's gut. The ship was obviously devoid of Fire Nation citizens other than himself, and he somehow doubted the ship's missing occupants were just hidden away in the brig.

(He prayed that they had simply been abandoned on an island somewhere, but he didn’t dare ask.)

"What about Bosco? Does he get a room?" The Earth King piped up, adjusting his tiny glasses. The Water Tribe warrior quirked a brow.

"Umm… the bear?" The King nodded. "Could he just… stay in yours?" The King frowned, then nodded again.

"I suppose that would be alright," he agreed, looking a little put upon. The warrior just turned back around slowly, looking a little weirded out.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes as the warrior navigated the narrow metal corridors, leading them to what Zuko knew were some of the slightly better rooms, usually reserved for low-ranking officers. Finally they arrived at a dead-end hallway with three doors on each side and one at the end. The man stopped and turned to face them, spreading his arms wide.

"These six rooms are empty, so you each get one to yourself. The door at the end is the washroom,” he pointed towards the end of the hallway. “For tonight, I’ll bring down some leftovers from dinner--but for future reference, we moved all the food to the kitchen on the first floor below deck. The bell for breakfast is rung at the sixth hour, but if you kids are too tired to come up for it, we'll set some aside for later. Is there anything you need?"

Katara sighed and looked despondently at the boy in her arms. "I probably need to go ahead and have another healing session with Aang before I go to sleep. Could you bring me down a few skins of water?" The man nodded and winced, watching somberly as the tattered monk groaned in his sleep.

"Of course, Katara," he said softly. He cleared his throat. "Anything else?" They shook their heads, and the man sighed. "Alright, then. Get some rest. See you kids in the morning." He took a step to leave, but Sokka clapped a hand to his shoulder, stopping him.

"…thanks, Bato. For everything." The man just smiled and clapped Sokkas' shoulder in return, then left.

The somber, pensive mood Bato left them in was broken almost immediately.

"I call this room!" Toph shouted, dashing towards the closest door on the right-hand side.

"Wait! Why? Is it bigger? Hold on!" Sokka ran into the room after her, and came hurtling out a second later. He jumped back in with an angry shout, and their unintelligible squabbling echoed loudly throughout the corridor.

He saw Katara squint her eyes shut and rub her free palm to her forehead. "Every time…" he thought he heard her mutter, but then the Avatar started slipping from her grasp and her eyes shot open.

He didn't remember deciding to grab him, but suddenly the Avatar was in his hands, caught before he could hit the floor. Before Zuko even had time to realize what had happened, the monk was forcefully wrested from him, snatched up by a now-panicked Katara. Her nostrils flared.

"S-sorry, he just…" Zuko fumbled, searching for the right thing to say and failing epically, as always.

"Don't touch him," she ordered in a whisper, her expression fierce. He put his hands up, palms forward, as a show of peace.

"Alright, I won't, I won't," he assured her. "Are you sure you don't…I mean, do you need help?"

"No," she replied tersely. He blew out a gust of air, and all his energy seemed to leave with it.

So much for allies.

"Okay then. Well, I guess I'll just… go to bed now." He backed a careful distance away from her, then walked past her, watching her warily from the corner of his eye as long as possible. "Goodnight. And, um, sorry." He walked slowly towards the room on the left, at the end of the hall.

He felt her eyes track him all the way down.

~o0o~

Zuko knew he hadn't really slept in nearly 30 hours. He knew that he was just recovering from an illness, and that he needed plenty of rest if he wanted to stay healthy. He knew that it would be very difficult to sleep when the sun rose in a few hours, so he needed to get his rest in now.

He knew all this—felt his exhaustion all the way to his bones. But sleep just wouldn't come.

Maybe it had something to do with the ship he was on. For years, that tiny outdated scouting vessel, the  _ Wani _ , had served as his home, and the cold groaning walls of his darkened room were uncomfortably familiar. It reminded him too much of the lifestyle he was trying to rid himself of, and the deep red of the Fire Nation wall hangings and decor reminded him of all that he would never have again.

Maybe it was because he still hadn't made peace with his decision in the caves—he just hadn't had enough time, and he felt he needed a little more perspective on the matter before that could happen. It was certainly troubling his mind, but he thought he could push it out of his thoughts just enough to get some rest.

However, those weren't the only things that were eating at him—and at least one of the worries currently on his mind could be remedied immediately.

Katara. He couldn't really blame her for mistrusting him. Backing him up in front of her father had been a purely pragmatic move. But seeing him with the Avatar in his hands must have triggered a knee-jerk reaction in her, after all the times he had tried to carry him off. He knew he hadn't wronged her—not today, anyway—but he couldn't shake the guilt and disappointment her attitude caused him.

He was tired of seeing people look at him like that—with fear and disgust and loathing. Maybe once, he would have appreciated being seen as fearsome, but now, he just felt miserable. Katara, the Avatar, Li, Jet, his father…he was so, so tired of people looking at him with nothing but hate in their eyes. 'Prince' Zuko would have told himself that it didn't matter—that he didn't care if people thought he was a disgrace, an abomination, that he would prove them all wrong…

Zuko was many things, but a good liar was never one of them. He could try and convince himself that it was okay if people saw him as some sort of monster, because he was… His hand, almost involuntarily, reached for the scarred side of his face, but he caught the motion before it came to completion. If they saw him as a monster, because he acted,  _ looked  _ like a monster…

_ The face of the enemy… _

But he didn't want to be a monster anymore—never had, really, but everything was just so much easier when he could pretend…

Two flashes of blue came to the front of his mind, and he replayed the memory over and over again in his head, savoring it. Of Katara, staring up at him—not with fear or hatred—but compassion, tenderness, and kindness.  _ That  _ was what was bothering him. He wanted—desperately—to see that look in her eyes again, when she looked at him. He was  _ starving  _ for it, craved those gentle, positive sentiments and touches like a man in a desert craved shade. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted people—her—to look at him and be glad to see him until he’d gotten a taste of that acceptance.

He was ashamed to admit it, even in his own mind, but...he wanted her to like him.

_ But how can they like you, when you don’t even like yourself? _

He growled and pulled his pillow over his face. Why did everything in his life have to be so hard!? Why couldn't he just figure out what he wanted already and  _ go  _ for it?

He took a deep breath to center himself, and exhaled slowly, being careful to keep the temperature of his breath down. (Wouldn't do to burn his only pillow, after all.)

It couldn't hurt to at least apologize to her, right? Even if it was for selfish reasons? It wasn't a  _ bad  _ thing to want her to hate him less, was it? It wasn't as if he had any active plans to betray her trust in the future…

Sighing, he tossed the pillow off of his head and gave into the impulse, stretching as he rose from his bed. He grabbed the under-tunic of his Earth Kingdom garb and slipped it on over his head. He didn't bother with the shoes. As quietly as was possible on a metal floor, he slipped out of his room and snuck down the corridor.

The lights were low in the metal hallway—the lamps dimmed to conserve energy at night. He lit a fire in his palm and looked around. Under the better visibility, he frowned as he looked at the five identical metal doors. It hadn't occurred to him until just then that he had no idea which room was Katara's.

He debated internally whether or not he should peek into each of the rooms until he found her, but decided it would be too risky and awkward if he accidentally woke up the wrong person. Yes, getting caught sneaking into another person's room in the dead of night was definitely counterproductive for his 'trust-winning' agenda. But, would it be any better if he just knocked on doors? Not only would that definitely wake the person, but with his luck, he wouldn't find her until door number five…

The grating sound of a door being pushed open rang out across the hallway, and Zuko snapped around towards the source, flame flaring and fists automatically up and ready.

Katara water-whipped him—hard—in the face.

He was snapped backward, his head making a meaty  _ thunk _ as it slammed into the metal wall of the hallway. He slid down it with a groan.

"Zuko!" Katara squeaked, and through the haze his vision had become, he could vaguely see her expression of horror as her hands came up to cover her mouth. He stared up at her blearily, and her hands dropped to her sides, balled into fists. When she said his name again, her voice was angry.

"Zuko! What do you think you're doing! ? Were you about to attack me…?" she hissed.

" _ You… _ hit  _ me _ ," he slurred, trying to push himself into a sitting position without much success.

"Because you were in a fighting stance!" She somehow managed to yell at him without raising her voice above a whisper. Surprisingly, no one had come out of their room yet, even though the sound of his head hitting the wall must have been pretty loud. It felt pretty loud, at least.

"You just… sur…prised me." He tried to focus on her, but the way the room kept spinning made it extremely difficult.

"Well,  _ you  _ surprised  _ me _ ! What were you doing, just standing there?" She crossed her arms.

"Couldn't sleep," he stated. And it was true. But even in his daze, he knew it would not help his current situation if he told her that he had actually gotten up to talk to her.

"So you decided to go lurk in the hallway and jump out at people?"

"No." He was finally sitting up now, and tenderly rubbed the new chicken-goose egg on the back of his head. His fingers came away tinted red.

"Then what—" she gasped, staring at his hand. "You're bleeding!" One minute, she was yelling at him, and the next, she was flitting all around him, helping him stand up and showering him with concern and apologies. Her total 180 in attitude made his head spin. Or maybe that was still the wound doing that. It was hard to tell.

She guided him into the middle-left room, the room next door to his. Her room? She picked the room next to his? Interesting.

She sat him down on the edge of her bed, instructing him to relax his shoulders. She crawled up onto the bed on her knees and moved behind him, settling almost uncomfortably close.

"This should only take a minute," she told him, and it was all he could do not to jump when her fingers brushed through his hair, lifting it out of the way to give her better access to the wound. He swallowed, and his tongue felt heavy. The royal hairdressers touched his hair, sure, but that was… perfunctory. Other than his mother, no one had ever touched his hair. Not like this.

Like this, in the dark. With warm puffs of air hitting his exposed neck, her breath raising the fine hairs there. Her hair, still loose, teased his shoulder and the side of his face as she leaned in close to inspect the injury. It was very...intimate. Like touching his scar had been.

_ Where else can she touch…?  _

No, no, no, bad. His brain was not  _ allowed  _ to think those kinds of things while she was actually  _ there _ . If she knew where his stupid teenage body sometimes led his stupid teenage brain, she’d do worse than slam his head into a wall.

He was mercifully distracted as a thin stream of water came to life from a bowl on the nightstand, and disappeared behind him. There was a faint hum, and then came the unfamiliar sensation of the healing water. It felt strange--the wetness just sort of stayed in one place, instead of running down his neck and back. It was very cold, and yet, not unpleasant—it almost felt like his tongue did whenever he chewed on a piece of mint leaf. What was the word? Tingly. Her water tingled.

A shiver trailed down his spine.

He gripped the fabric of his pants and closed his eyes, taking deep, meditative breaths. He couldn't tell how much time passed like this—her silently healing him, while he was torn between wishing that she would hurry up and finish already, and hoping that she never would. But eventually, the water retreated from his head and her fingers worked themselves out of his hair. He opened his eyes and sighed.

"There, that should do it," she told him, then yawned. She shifted away from him and to his left to sit near the center of the large bed, and he turned to face her. She dismissed the now pinkish water back to its place on the nightstand with a casual flick of her wrist, then curled her knees up to her chest. He wished she had chosen to sit on his right instead, but was more intrigued by how she seemed to be gearing up to talk to him instead of booting him out of her room the second she’d finished healing him. 

Now that his head was clear, he noticed that she hadn’t dressed down for bed, other than removing her shoes. Her hair was still down from when it had come loose in the fight against Azula, only now it was even more disheveled than before. And two, dark circles had formed under her bright blue eyes.

"So," she started, and she looked nervous, or maybe even… guilty? "were you planning on going to sleep anytime soon?" Zuko's eyes widened slightly, and his palms suddenly felt sweaty.

Umm…

"…probably not." Not now, anyway… "I was up because I couldn't sleep, remember?" He toed the cold metal floor with his dangling right leg. "Why?" He asked furtively.

She bit her lip. "Well, you kind of had a mild concussion. I healed it, but…" Zuko felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Just to be safe, you might not want to sleep for an hour or two." Yes, that was definitely guilt on her face. "Sorry."

Zuko just shrugged. "It's fine." He almost reached his hand up to touch the now-healed knot on his head, but stopped, not wanting to dispel the lingering sensation of her hands there. "Umm…"

"Yeah…"

"So…"

"Mhm?"

"Uhh…" Zuko was pretty used to feeling like an idiot in social situations, but this took the awkward cake. What did two enemies-turned-allies say to each other when there was no immediate threat or problem to take care of? They both fidgeted uncomfortably in silence for a minute or two, with Katara staring at him warily, maybe still half-expecting him to suddenly jump up and start shooting fire at everyone again.

"Sorry," he finally blurted out, and her expression shifted to confused. "For earlier, I mean. When I—you know, the Avatar—"

"Aang," she corrected. "His name is Aang." He winced. Right. He knew that, didn't he?

"Right. Aang. Well, anyway, sorry about earlier—he was falling, and I just…"

Katara sighed. "It's alright. You were just… trying to help. I may have… overreacted a little." She looked down at her toes, wiggling them.

"Well, after the way I've acted over these past few months…" He still didn’t see how he could have done anything differently--he’d been so desperate to go home that he would have never stopped chasing the Avatar… but well, he maybe could have done that and  _ not  _ threatened her village… or burnt down that one other village… or send a scary sexy bounty hunter after them…

He cleared his throat, turning his head to look at her from the corner of his bad eye. Oh, spirits. "Sorry about that, by the way. You know, chasing you guys around the world and…" Stupid stupid stupid! If he apologized for everything he’d done wrong they’d be here for ages--and it’s not like he  _ wanted _ to refresh her memory by listing off his many offences. "…stuff," he finished lamely.

Her lip quivered for a minute, before turning into an amused grin. She snorted, looked at him, opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it, deciding against it. Zuko frowned. He didn’t, as a general rule, do much apologizing, but he was fairly certain that laughter (of the non-sadistic kind) was not a normal response.

"What?" She shook her head.

"Nothing, it's just… just the way you said it, you know?" He frowned even deeper. She cracked a dry grin. "You terrorized us on a regular basis for  _ months _ , and then when you apologize for it, you sound more like you're saying sorry for… I don't know, being late to dinner or something." Zuko grimaced. He was quite aware he was bad at being good. She caught his look and sighed.

"Listen,” she said, “it's probably not going to be easy for any of us to get used to having you around, but…" Many different emotions swirled behind her eyes, as if she was conflicted about something. "But, I do believe in second chances, so, apology accepted." Zuko gaped. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

"You—"

"But," she interrupted, "don't think that means you've totally made up for everything you put us through," she told him seriously, pointing her finger at his chest. He almost groaned. Of course it couldn't be that easy. Nothing ever was. Then again, he’d have serious doubts about their sanity if they  _ did _ just take his apparent change of heart at face value. 

"I'm still mad at you for that time you tied me to a tree," she reminded him sourly.  _ And then dangled my  _ dead mother’s heirloom _ in my face _ , she didn’t say, but Zuko heard anyway. He cringed.

Yeah, it figured she would take that one a  _ little  _ more personally than the rest.

Zuko sighed deeply. He needed to earn her trust--hers and the others--if he wanted any help rescuing Uncle, that is.

But--and he couldn’t believe it when the realization struck him--he found he  _ wanted _ to earn  _ her  _ trust, wanted to have it not just for convenience’s sake but because he proved  _ worthy _ of it. She had believed in him against all sense--must have decided that there was more to him than a ruthless opponent. Displayed a level of faith in him by standing up to her own father that Zuko couldn’t fathom. Hell,  _ she _ seemed more convinced he was good now than  _ he _ did.

Only two people had ever believed in him.

Now, maybe, there could be three.

Not if he couldn’t atone for his past mistakes, though. "Well, then," he began, "what can I do to make it up to you?" She blinked, surprised, her mouth open in shock. Zuko wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. Again, he was no expert at apologies, but he was pretty sure the process went: 

One: make a mistake. 

Two: beg forgiveness. 

Three: get assigned a task to earn said forgiveness.

Four: …??? 

(He was unclear on step four--he’d never gotten that far.)

After another moment of silent shock, Katara’s mouth drew closed and a devious glint came into her eyes. His smile faltered, suddenly nervous.

"I don't know, you've just got so much to make up for," she said in mock consideration. "I mean, like, months worth of debt. I don't even know how to begin the list of things you need to repay us for…" Then her tone turned thoughtful, and she tapped her chin. "Though, I guess you helping us against your sister probably knocked at least a few things off that list…"

"She had it coming," Zuko muttered darkly, glowering at the floor. He’d never forget what she’d done to Uncle--that moment he’d thought she’d  _ killed _ him… he stubbornly refused to consider what she might have done to him this time--prayed that Uncle’s usefulness as a spectacle of disgrace and shameful scapegoat to his family would keep him alive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katara tense, then shift a little closer to him. He looked up, and saw that her hand was half-raised towards him, her eyes concerned.

"Zuko," she hesitated, biting her lip, then dropped her hand, sighing. She stared at her hands, folded on her lap. "She's still your sister, you know," she told him, as if that would change the fact that he and Azula were now mortal enemies. In fact, the only way their relation affected their rivalry was to personalize and intensify it. They had always been at odds with each other, only now she had a legitimate excuse to kill him.   
  
(In the back of his mind, a girls’ laughter, warm instead of cold, echoed faintly along with the impression of sand and sea and gentle breezes. He resolutely ignored it.)

"I understand if it was hard for you to attack her. Although," her lip curled up in distaste, "how you could stand being related to a monster like that is beyond me."

_ Then you haven't met my father _ , he thought automatically, then froze.

_ Traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! _ His mind screamed at him. He had already acknowledged, of course, that he was a traitor to his father and his country—though the acceptance of this did nothing to lessen the sick feeling it gave him—but he hadn't betrayed his father because he had  _ wanted  _ to. He just had a terrible choice between his uncle and his father, and he chose his uncle. But he still loved his father. He still wanted his approval, though that was nothing more than an impossible hope, now. And he certainly didn't hate his father…

Did he?

All of those dark, lonely moments out at sea during his banishment that he would be locked up in his room, brooding… Often, he would suddenly be overwhelmed with anger towards his father—for his favoritism of Azula, for pretending his mother had never existed, for banishing him, for  _ burning  _ him—but he would always recoil from it, ashamed. 

It wasn't his  _ father's  _ fault that Azula was so much better than Zuko, a child more worthy of royal blood. 

It wasn't his  _ father's  _ fault that Zuko had acted out of line during that war meeting, when he  _ knew better _ than to break his silence. 

It wasn't his  _ father's  _ fault that Zuko had acted so cowardly and brought shame upon himself during their Agni Kai. 

It wasn't his  _ father's  _ fault that he then had to punish his son for his very publicly dishonorable behavior…

Zuko would remind himself of those facts, over and over, until his rage shifted, and he would be angry at the Avatar instead, for constantly slipping through his grasp, keeping him from reclaiming his honor and going home…

But, then, by that same logic, it hadn't been  _ Aang's  _ fault that Zuko couldn't go home without him, had it?

Anger at the Avatar, anger at his father, anger at himself… there had always been just  _ so much  _ of that one, burning emotion that trying to figure out the root of each feeling was like trying to pick out individual licks of flame in a bonfire.

"Sorry," Katara's voice cut into his thoughts, and he snapped back to the present. She was looking at him warily, and he realized that he had been staring at her pretty intensely for the past few minutes. He turned his gaze away from her and berated himself.

Stupid! Now she probably thinks you're mad at her!

"I… I shouldn't have said that, that was out of line. I mean, nobody is completely bad, right? Surely she has some redeeming qualities…?" Zuko frowned, and he had to mentally backtrack until he remembered what she was talking about. Right, his sister.

"No, not really. You were right the first time," he monotoned, staring blankly at the door. Even if Azula  _ had  _ retained any softer qualities under her icy exterior after all this time, well. He doubted any hypothetical friendly feelings would ever belong to  _ him _ . 

Katara was silent, but he didn't feel like turning to look at her. He felt hollow, drained, his confusion suffocating his usual anger for once, instead of fueling it. "It kind of runs in the family," he added blandly a moment later. Self-deprecation came as naturally as breathing in these burnt-out slumps between his rages. He felt her shifting around on the bed, then she yawned.

"I don’t know," she hummed. "Most of it, maybe, but I wouldn’t say  _ all _ ..." He blanked for a moment. What would she know about his family? Unless… He jerked his head around to face her. She had leaned back against the wall, and hugged a pillow to her chest. Her eyes were only half-open.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked slowly, hopefully.

She shrugged lazily. "Your uncle seems like a decent guy," she told him, finishing with a yawn. His chest constricted. Oh. Everybody seemed to like his uncle, that made sense…

"And I don't think… well, in hindsight, you were never really  _ bad _ , I guess, just misguided." His eyes widened, and a small, light feeling took up residence in his heart at her roundabout approval. His eyes widened even further as he realized the implications of what she had just said:

He had told her that monstrosity ran in the family, and she had said he wasn't  _ like  _ his family…

He couldn’t help but think of that Earth Kingdom village--the kind family who had taken him in; Li, the boy who had looked up at him with smiles and adoration...right up until he revealed his firebending and suddenly he was the scum of the earth.

(He’d seen what his nation had done to their people, to the rest of the world. He hated that he felt ashamed of his nation--worse, that they, he, almost certainly deserved their hatred.)

But Katara...she, it seemed, didn't think he was a monster.

It wasn't as if anyone here treated him with open disgust--the Water Tribe warriors had all looked at his with a sort of pragmatic wariness, sure--but the revelation that at least one person thought he was  _ good _ was still a big one. He hadn't known, hadn't imagined that Katara could feel anything for him but reluctant pity. He hadn't wanted to hope that her offer to heal him in the caves was more than a one-off incident of capture-bond fueled insanity.

"Are you sure?" He asked her, and he hated himself for second-guessing her assessment of him, afraid she might change her mind. But if the rug was to be pulled out from under him, better now than later. "I'm cut from the same cloth as the rest of my family. How do you know I'm not just  _ pretending  _ to be good?" He bit his tongue. That… had been a really stupid thing to say.

_ Way to go, idiot. If she wasn't suspicious of your motives before… _

She frowned. "I  _ don't  _ know for sure," she said. Then she looked him straight in the eye. "I mean, I'm  _ pretty  _ sure you're not faking it. Though I’ve been wrong before," she ended in a mutter.

His eyebrow rose at her last statement. Had she been betrayed before…? Then why on earth would she take a chance on  _ him _ ?

She caught his look and sighed. "Don't ask," she said tiredly. "Long, stupid story." He complied, and stored the question away for another time.

(He was burning to know though--who had tossed away the gift of her loyalty? How could he avoid retreading on the bruises that must have left on her soul? Other than, well, not betraying her, but… he didn’t exactly have a great track record with the careful handling of the trust placed in his care, now did he?)

Another long bout of silence ensued, only this time, the awkward edge had turned pensive. She didn't seem to mind that he was still in her room—at least, she never said as much. Eventually, though, he noticed that her breathing had started to even out, and her eyes had drifted closed.

"Are you asleep?" he asked quietly. She jumped a little, and cracked an eye open.

"No, of course not," she said in a very unconvincing slur. She closed her eyes again and curled onto her side, facing away from him. He tried again a minute later.

"So… firebending teacher, huh?"

"Mhm," she mumbled without turning around. "Gotta…earn your keep." He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. That was nothing new to him.

"Should be pretty easy. I mean, he's the Avatar, right?"

He was utterly perplexed when she giggled sleepily.

"Oh, definitely. Aang is an excellent student." She laughed again. "Have fun." Zuko just shook his head. She was obviously loopy from lack of sleep.

"Right," he said slowly. "Well, it's late—er, early. I'll just… let you go to sleep now." He stood up from the bed, and Katara stretched her legs out straight.

"M'kay," she mumbled. Zuko moved to the door.

"Goodnight," he told her.

"'Night." He gripped the handle of the door, then paused, turning back around to look at her. He stared at the back of her head, and the long, mahogany waterfall of hair that fell from it. Her body rose and fell slowly, moved by her deep, even breathing.

"And Katara?" No response. She was asleep. He sighed and pushed the door open quietly.

"Thank you," he breathed into the empty hallway.

He returned quietly to his bed, and for once slept peacefully until well after the sun had risen.


	3. over the coals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yes, I am still editing/rewriting this! I'm sorry it took so long, but I've found writing for this with any success can only happen when 
> 
> 1) My ADHD hyperfixation swings back around to ATLA and  
> 2) I have the spoons to actually get it done.
> 
> That said, here's the first chapter in Katara's POV
> 
> (I might start writing in more frequently alternating POV, instead of whole chapters that are just one character)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fortune tellers dancin' 'round inside my head  
>  I'm tryin' not to lose everything she said  
> Even so in standing at the foot of my bed last night  
> There's mountains gettin' higher with every step  
> I'm trying not to lose everything I've kept  
> Captured by the fortune tellers in my mind_
> 
> _Ooohh, they always come back again  
>  Every time freedom tries to pull me out  
> They suck me back in  
> Oooohh, we gonna' let that fire burn you  
> Tell me, how you're gonna' walk on coals and water too?_
> 
> \- Coals and Water, Angel Snow

Katara knew upon waking that, without a doubt, last night had been one of the most surreal experiences of her life.

And she hadn't even been dreaming.

Working her way slowly up the metal stairs that led to the deck, she shook her head, remembering.

After she had finished up her healing session with Aang—and her stomach turned immediately at the thought of the almost  _ cooked _ state his body had been in before she worked with him—she had been absolutely exhausted. It had taken her nearly two hours before she was comfortable enough with Aang's condition to stop her healing, so by the time she had finally left the monk's room, she was the last one up. Unfortunately, that meant that all but one of the rooms were taken. It had taken her a few tries—and a few pillows tossed at her head by Toph—before she found the last empty room.

Which just so happened to be next door to  _ his _ room.

It made her edgy, knowing that all that separated her from the firebending Prince was a thin sheet of metal. So, despite how tired she was, it had taken her quite some time before she finally fell asleep. And it wasn't for lack of trying—she really did, even tried meditating a little, but it was only three days past the full moon, and her mind had just been given too much fuel for worrying.

It seemed nearly impossible that everything that had just happened occurred within the space of a single day. The morning had started out productively enough—sure, they were planning for war, but Long Feng had been put out of commission, and King Kuei had learned of the reality of the situation in the world. They still had a lot to do, and the Fire Nation still had to be defeated, but the considerable forces of Ba Sing Se had now joined them in their cause, and they had a plan of action. Things were moving forward and looking up. For once, she imagined that their worries were finally over.

Oh, how she  _ hated  _ being wrong.

The frenzy had started when she had first caught sight of Zuko working in that teashop, and hadn't ended until she finally laid Aang down to rest in his Fire Nation style bed—which were nowhere near as comfortable as the beds they had had back in Ba Sing Se, she noted. (As wretched as that city was, that part of the experience, she had enjoyed, at least.)

If only her lack of sleep was caused by something as simple as a mattress downgrade.

Her body still rang with the aftershocks of the stress and adrenaline and fear. Discovering that Azula had infiltrated the palace had been an even bigger shock than running into Zuko. Him being in the city was bad enough, but his sister, too? And, of course, then she had to be locked in a cell with him. And as intense as that experience had been, it had actually been one of the least stressful events of her day. Because after that, Aang had shown up, and then she had fought and fought and fought, and she hadn't known if she could win, but it didn't even matter, because Aang had died, he  _ died _ , and she had been this close to losing him for good—and then, somehow, Zuko had come along with them, and though she was happy that he had fought on their side, he was still just… so… so…

She didn't even know! He made her nervous, was all. It was like, whenever he was around, her mind was trained to set her body on high alert. She was constantly aware of his every movement, even when he had been sitting rather harmlessly in the saddle…

And then, and _then_ , when they finally made it to safety, just when she thought she could relax, her dad, who left them alone for over _five_ _years_ , started barking out orders the second she saw him! As if he had any right when he knew _nothing_ about the situation they were in. 

And then Zuko, who had up until two days ago been their--well, he hadn’t ever really been their  _ worst  _ enemy, in retrospect, just their most dogged. Especially after other, even worse enemies had started cropping up left, right, and center, as if to show them what an enemy  _ really _ looked like. Even so, to see the prince grabbing for Aang like that, even if he meant no harm  _ this _ time…

Well, any one of those things would have gotten her worked up. All of them together had frayed her nerves so badly she almost felt like she needed a healing session herself.

However, after only a few hours of sleep, her worried mind had overridden her physical needs, and she had woken up. She tried her hardest to fall back asleep for what must have been half an hour, but it had been impossible. Deciding her mind might be more at ease if she went and checked up on Aang just once more for the night, she got up, got her waterskin, opened the door…

And nearly had a heart attack when she saw Zuko standing there, about to fry her.

Nearly.

Instead, she ended up giving him a concussion. A mild one, but still…

After the initial shock had worn off, she had realized that Zuko's expression when she knocked him off his feet had also been one of surprise. So she believed his claim that he hadn't intentionally threatened her—he had just reacted in defense, much like she had. 

Katara didn't like hurting people--well, Sokka needed a good whack to the head every now and then… And Master Pakku's other students had certainly needed putting in their place… And those Dai Li who had  _ betrayed their own people _ , ugh….

(Okay, so maybe she did like hurting  _ some _ people. But only if they  _ really deserved it _ .)

But  _ actually _ , really drawing blood on someone? Who (probably???) wasn't an enemy? When sparring, she tried to use only as much force as necessary, and with water it was simple to disable someone without injuring them. So when she saw that she had actually injured Zuko enough to need healing, she felt terrible.

She didn't think twice about healing him—after all, whether she completely trusted him or not, they still needed him around as Aang's firebending teacher if—when,  _ when— _ the monk recovered. And, even if he was a former enemy, she wasn't so callous as to let him suffer when she could easily take care of the problem within minutes.

And that was when the weirdness started. Healing was meant to be a soothing experience—both for the patient and the healer. But from the moment Katara had touched him, Zuko's body had tensed up so tightly that Katara could actually feel his discomfort, radiating from him along with his excessive body heat. She had continued to heal him without faltering, but his reaction to it was making her even more wary of the teen—someone she already considered a very dangerous patient.

His tenseness unsettled her in other ways, as well. It took her a minute to figure it out, but eventually she had realized that Zuko was acting as if he didn't trust her. Her hand was just above the base of his neck, was he afraid that…?

She had nearly gasped at the revelation, but had managed to hold her hands steady.

It was shocking, to say the least, to see their interaction in that light, but up until recently, she had been his enemy, too. But did he really think that she would hurt him?

She winced. Well, okay, so maybe she had. But! She would never offer to heal someone and use that trust to  _ harm _ them…

She couldn’t deny it felt just a  _ bit _ good to be considered dangerous enough to tread carefully around. But mostly, she had felt hurt that Zuko didn't trust her, despite logically knowing the change to allies was surely a huge adjustment for him, too. It was just that she liked to think of herself as a caring and empathetic person, or at least she  _ tried _ to be. And that kind of base rejection rubbed her the wrong way.

She almost got angry. She hadn't been the one hunting  _ him  _ down—she was the one who offered to help him! In fact, she had offered to help him before, when his Uncle was struck down by Azula in that abandoned town, but he just shot fire at her and yelled for her to 'LEAVE!'

Then her guilt managed to temper her rage, and she had to admit that, even if he had rejected her offers of help before, even if he was still wary of having her hands so close to his vulnerable neck, he still trusted her enough to  _ let _ her…

After she finished healing him, he had visibly relaxed, and she had expected him to bolt for the door.

But he didn't.

No, instead, he had stayed, sitting on the edge of her bed, facing her.

Talking.

Like, in a normal conversation. It was awkward, and stilted, and they both may have been more than a little bit sleep-deprived, but it was normal. If not for the fact that he had kept calling Aang 'the Avatar', she could have been talking to any one of her friends.

Hell, she had even teased him! And he hadn't gotten even a little bit angry! Depressed, maybe, but it was a far cry from the reaction she would have expected from the usually-scowling Prince. She almost couldn't believe that the quiet, polite teen who ducked his head and averted his gaze from her was the same person who, just a year before, had crashed his ship into her village, manhandled Gran-gran, and demanded that they turn over the Avatar.

But there was still that same, angry red scar over his eye—eyes that still glowed and burned like fire, even if the intensity had dimmed. There was still that same fearsome grace about him—half regal, half predatory, and his skin was still impossibly pale. There was still that same, deep, rasping voice, that always made something inside her quiver, and had lurked in her dreams for many nights past…

He was undeniably still Zuko, and yet, he was not. He wasn't at all the same person she had come to dread—it was like he was a complete stranger that just happened to have the Prince's name and face.

_ And better hair, _ she thought with a giggle.

She finally reached the top of the stairs, and the delicious smell of salty wind hit her full on in the face. She squinted, staring at the sky. The sun was just past its zenith. She blinked.

Wow. She had slept past noon. She was no early riser, but she almost never slept in this late. She really must have been tired…

So tired, she had fallen asleep with Zuko still in her room.

She bit her lip and blushed, remembering. She had definitely not intended for that to happen when she brought him into her room to heal him. She squirmed, the mere thought of Zuko watching her sleep made her feel like elbow-leeches were crawling all over her. Sure, he had been gone when she had woken up this morning—er, afternoon, but she had no way of knowing how long he had stayed there.

And she was definitely not going to ask him about it, especially with all these people around. Sokka would probably flip out and get all overprotective if he knew, and her dad…

Her thoughts immediately soured.  _ Dad _ . She had almost forgotten. They were supposed to have a  _ talk _ this morning about the Zuko situation. She scowled. There wouldn't even  _ be  _ a situation if he hadn't gone all "tribe leader" on them and tried to boot Zuko off the ship…

A bolt of alarm shot through her. It was way past morning now, so what if they had already discussed it without her? What if they had already made him leave? Or worse?

But no, Sokka wouldn't let them do that, would he? Sure, he hated the guy, but her brother was practical—he knew that Aang needed a firebending teacher, so he wouldn't just let dad throw Zuko overboard, right?

Right?

Somehow, the thought of Sokka acting in Zuko's defense didn't exactly fill her with confidence.

Because that had worked out  _ so  _ well when he defended Aang at Avatar Kyoshi’s trial…

Oooh, if her dad went behind her back and got rid of Zuko without even talking to her about it… Her teeth ground together.

Feeling murderous, she nearly ripped off the hand that suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

"Hey, Katara! You're—"

"WHAT?" She spun around and yelled. Sokka scrambled backward, looking frightened.

"Err… you're finally up?" He squeaked, looking side to side for an escape route from her wrath.

"Sokka, where is—"

"Zuko!" Sokka turned away from her, hailing the teen as he walked onto the deck from the lower levels. "Hey, buddy, didn't you say you needed help with that… thing?" Zuko stopped and turned towards him, making an odd face that seemed to say, 'Who, me?'

Katara was confused, too. Since when was Sokka friendly with Zuko? And then, her thoughts caught up with her:

Zuko! Relief washed over her. She wasn't sure if there had been any discussion this morning, but regardless, they hadn't kicked him out yet. In fact, judging from the direction Zuko had come from, he had been in bed all morning anyway. Zuko stood in place nervously as Sokka ran over to him. Katara trailed behind her brother.

"Umm…" Zuko started, staring at Sokka, then looked over at her. He started when he saw her expression, and Katara realized she was grinning at him. She was happy to see he wasn’t at the bottom of the ocean, yes, but she could tell her smile unnerved him. She flushed and tried to tone it down a little.

Suddenly Sokka sniggered, pointing towards the Prince’s face. "Hey, Jerkbender, how'd ya get that bruise? Did you hit your head coming up the stairs?" Sokka laughed at his own 'joke' and Zuko frowned, fingering his face. Katara looked at his forehead and gasped, but resisted the urge to cover her mouth with her hand.

Zuko's eyes crossed in an attempt to look at the big, purple bruise that had blossomed just above the bridge of his nose. Katara groaned internally.

_ Oops. Missed a spot. _

Of course, last night she had been so focused on healing the bleeding injury on the back of Zuko's head, that she hadn't even considered he might have a bruise where she had hit him with her water-whip. It must have developed overnight, after he left her room…

Zuko's eyes widened in sudden realization, and he looked towards her nervously. She grimaced.

_ Sorry! _ She mouthed at him.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "What?" He asked, looking between them suspiciously. Zuko's head pulled back a little and he looked away from her, turning to Sokka.

"Err… nothing. And yeah, I fell." His lie came out flat, but it would be enough to convince Sokka, hopefully.

Unfortunately, Zuko wasn't finished.

"And I was just wondering if… Katara could heal it?" She tensed. What is he doing? Sokka just nodded, though.

"Oh," he replied. But before Katara could let out a sigh of relief, Sokka's brow furrowed. "Wait, how do you know that she can heal people?" Zuko froze, and Katara's gut plummeted.

She couldn't tell him about last night, or the earlier offer to heal Zuko's scar… 

"Sokka, you idiot," she said a little too loudly, flustered, "I healed Aang right in front of him, remember?" She didn't actually think he'd been paying attention at the time, but that didn't matter. She just knew her brother would be more of a pain than usual if he knew about her late night encounter with the other teen. 

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Sokka said. She scoffed to hide her relief.

"Well, at least some people around here have decent observational skills." Sokka glared at her, and Zuko watched on, bemused.

"What are you talking about?" He groused, waving his hands in the air. "I make tons of observations! I'm the idea guy, remember?"

"Yeah, and you're also the whining guy, remember?" She shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "No, I was the  _ complaining _ guy." He wagged his finger at her. "If you're going to insult me, you should at least be consistent about it." She crossed her arms.

"Oh? Who says you can't be both?" He gave an exaggerated sigh and hung his head, then snapped it back up to stare at the sky.

"Whatever! You know what? I don't need this right now—I need meat. Later, sis." And with that declaration, he spun around, stalking back towards the ships' tower, grumbling. She couldn't hear exactly what he said, but she did manage to pick out the words 'morning' and 'grump' and 'moody waterbenders' and 'women'. She narrowed her eyes.

"I heard that!" She yelled after him, shaking her fist. He yelled back over his shoulder.

"What? I was just making an  _ observation _ !" Her fingers twitched towards her waterskin.

"Sokka…" she growled. Someone coughed, and Katara turned. She blinked, seeing Zuko still standing there, looking warily between her and the retreating form of her idiot brother. She had almost forgotten that the firebender was there.

"Umm…" he began when he noticed she was staring at him. He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah…. Sorry about that…" Katara huffed.

"Let's not start that again." His lips drew together in what could have been a smile, if not for the fact that it looked like the action caused him pain.

"Right," he said slowly. He glanced back at Sokka just before he disappeared from view, then turned back towards her. "Does that happen a lot?" Katara raised an eyebrow.

"What, Sokka being an idiot? Every day," she said sarcastically. He snorted.

"I don't doubt it. But, I meant…" he paused, and waved his hand vaguely between her and the direction Sokka had stalked off. "That." Katara blinked in confusion.

"You mean arguing? Of course," she shrugged, popping open her waterskin. A thin film coated her right hand. "We're siblings, Sokka and I argue all the time. It's like, in the natural order of things. Now, hold still, this will only take a minute."

Aware of how it worked now, he made no protest as she brought her hand to his forehead and pulsed her chi, making the water glow. He closed his eyes, losing a bit of tension in his shoulders. As she concentrated, something occurred to her. 

"Wait, don't tell me that you never got into an argument with  _ your  _ sister," she asked, disbelieving. She withdrew her hand, healing done.

Zuko opened his eyes again and gave her a sour look. "Is it still considered an argument when one of the two parties involved is actually trying to kill the other?" She winced. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, staring out at the endless expanse of ocean around them.

"But… yeah, I suppose… when we were younger, Azula and I… 'argued', a lot." He looked at her out of the corner of his good eye. "Though there was usually still quite a bit of fire involved," he added dryly. She smirked, though it was dampened by surprise. It had been hard to tell at first, but now she was almost positive: Zuko actually had a sense of humor.

She never would have pegged the typically surly teen as the type to crack jokes—that was usually Sokka's department. Of course, Zuko's jokes lacked that corny, obvious pun-humor that her brother seemed to favor, and leaned more towards the cynical and sarcastic—much like her own.

Zuko smirked hesitantly in return, then frowned and looked away again. "And, of course, Azula was always the one who came out on top," he muttered. She huffed and tried to blow away his sudden bad mood.

"Of course she did," she quipped, rolling her eyes dramatically, "She's a girl. Women just naturally have more sense than men, so it's not like it's a fair fight. We will always win in an argument." Surely he had been alive long enough to figure that out, right? Or maybe at least his Uncle had taught him? Although, to be fair, Sokka still hadn't quite grasped it, yet, either…

Zuko just stared at her with his eyebrow raised, his lip twitching.

"What?" She frowned. He crossed his arms.

"I realize how you might think that with your brother as a prime example, but surely you don’t think that  _ all _ women are smarter than men?" She shook her head.

"I never said they were  _ smarter _ , just more sensible. Take my brother for example—he's a genius—" Zuko succumbed to a sudden coughing fit, and Katara almost reached out to help him, before she caught the amused, incredulous look in his eyes. She folded her arms back to her chest, glaring.

"If you'd let me finish," she said sharply, and he immediately straightened up a little, though the impish humor still danced behind his eyes, "Sokka is a genius, but he's also incredibly stupid." He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"Care to explain that one?" He asked, dubious.

"Sokka always comes up with these crazy, brilliant schemes and inventions—like, once, he managed to evacuate the citizens of an entire Earth Kingdom city under Fire Nation control, in plain sight, with absolutely no casualties and no resistance." Zuko's eyebrow nearly shot to his hairline.

"Huh. That…is actually pretty impressive," he admitted slowly. "I'd like to hear the rest of that story sometime…" Katara waved him off.

"I'm sure you'll get a chance to, just not right now." She cleared her throat, and Zuko waited patiently for her to continue. "Anyway, as I was saying, he's a stupid genius. He goes and pulls these amazing stunts one minute, then turns around and does something totally harepig-brained the next."

"Like…?"

"Like getting two fishhooks stuck in his thumb." He frowned.

"Two? How did he manage to do that?" Katara smirked at the memory of her brother, screeching for her as he came into their tent, waving his decorated thumb in the air.

"Well, the first one was just an accident. He got the second one when he used another fishhook to try and dig the first one out." Zuko snickered.

"That's pretty impressive, too." Katara laughed, then sighed.

"See what I mean, though? Without us women around to talk you men out of your stupid ideas, or at least clean up afterwards, the human race wouldn't stand a chance." Zuko's lips quirked into a droll grin.

"Well, without women, it's not like the human race would be around for too long, anyway." He blinked for a few seconds, then turned a bit pink, as if he only realized he was talking about sex after the words had already escaped his mouth. Katara blushed slightly, but turned away from him to hide it, sticking her nose in the air.

"And don't you forget it," she ordered him. She heard him snort.

"I don't think that will be a problem," he muttered, and a tiny, delighted smirk twitched across her face before she suppressed it.

_ Katara: 1, Zuko: 0 _

However, her stomach chose that exact second to give an obscenely loud grumble, and her moment of victory was ruined. She looked down to glare at her traitorous gut, and Zuko's voice, laced with humor, asked:

"Hungry?" Her dignity would not let her mind consciously acknowledge the fact that her face was probably bright red when she turned to glare at him.

"No, I'm still stuffed from the tiny bowl of eggs and rice I had yesterday morning," she sniped. He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.

"Well then, in that case," he stretched his arms above his head, grunting as his spine popped into place, "You just hang out here on the deck, being full. I'm going to go get something to eat." And with that, he spun around on his heel and began walking away, arms crossed behind his head. Katara pouted at his retreating back. After a moments' hesitation, she jogged after him.

"Hey!" She yelled after him, and he slowed down just enough to let her catch up with him. She kept pace beside him, huffing.

"What, they don't have sarcasm in the Fire Nation?" He looked at her from the corner of his eye, then away again.

"Of course not, Fire Lord Azulon decided all forms of humor were 'unpatriotic' and had jokes banned over 50 years ago."  _ Wait, really _ ? She nearly said, before she caught the twitch in the corner of his mouth. She pouted.

"Okay, now you're just mocking me," she groused.

"Really? That doesn’t seem like something I would do.” She was flustered—upset at him for parrying her every blow in their verbal battle, as he did in their physical ones. But for some reason, when the growl of frustration she felt building in her chest came out, it came out as a short burst of laughter instead. Zukos' head snapped around, and he looked down at her in askance. Katara just shook her head.

"You know, I can't tell if I'm annoyed with you right now, or in awe." His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She smiled wanly.

"Just that… I don't know, it's like I don't understand you at all…" He frowned deeply, and she rushed to continue, "I just mean that, you know, I had this image of you built up in my head, but, talking to you now… it doesn't fit at all." His expression retreated, and looked pointedly ahead and away from her.

"Like I said, I've changed," he murmured. Katara bit her lip, considering.

Yesterday, he had fought with them against his sister and the Dai Li. She couldn’t really imagine how hard that must have been. For all that they fought, she couldn’t picture what she would do if Sokka somehow turned evil, let alone if she had to fight him. And his Uncle, who he had left behind...even Zuko’s earlier, more furious incarnation had obviously cared a great deal for the man. His anguish after he’d been struck down by Azula’s attack in that abandoned town had been genuine, and Katara often wished she’d tried a little harder to heal him.

And yet… every so often, while she was talking to him, a mental alarm would sound in her head, saying, 'it's Zuko! Fight! Run!' At the same time, though, she desperately wanted to believe that that reaction wasn't necessary, that he really  _ had  _ changed. It wasn't fair of her to withhold her trust from him just because of who he was. Objectively, Jet had done  _ far worse _ , but she’d found it in her to forgive him...even if that forgiveness had come too late. 

But people were just people--they made mistakes—sometimes, lots of them, in Zuko's case. But everyone deserved a second chance; people had the right to try and redeem themselves…

So far, he hadn't given her a single reason not to believe the sincerity of his claim. But he had given her plenty of evidence to support it—from the almost docile manner in which he acted around her, to the way he had seemed so hurt and lost and confused, down in the crystal cell…

"I think…" she bit her lip, and he watched her face with a blank expression. "I  _ do _ think you've changed, but that's not it--or, not all." He tilted his head. 

"What  _ did _ you mean, then?" How to put it…? 

"I think you're different than I expected because you've grown as a person, yes, but also because there's just a lot about you that probably  _ hasn't  _ changed, it's just not," she waved her hand, "stuff I would have noticed… Since we really only ever saw each other in certain contexts." Zuko looked thoughtful. 

"That makes sense," he said, then darted a sly look at her. "I guess I didn't know you were anything but angry and stubborn until yesterday, either." Oh, that was  _ rich _ , coming from him. She scoffed and nudged him with her elbow. 

"And  _ I  _ didn't know you had a sense of humor under that glare, but, here we are." He misstepped, too busy looking at her with wide eyes to navigate the stairs. 

"Woah!" She caught him before he could go tumbling down the stairs. (And she stayed holding him because, well, it would be inconvenient to miss lunch because she had to heal him again, right?) 

"You...think I'm funny?" He was leaned against the wall with his left hand, but his other was draped lightly over her shoulder where she had caught him. He was very warm, and very close. 

"Yes? Um, yeah?" She'd never realized how gold his eyes were, having never been this close in daylight. For some reason she was stuck on this newfound fact. "You know, not in the same way Sokka is--or tries to be--funny, but, I mean," she shrugged, "you've made me laugh like, three times in the last twenty minutes, so…" 

Her shrug seemed to have reminded him where his arm was, because he removed it and straightened with a cough. (She ignored the feeling of mild disappointment.) 

"No one's ever said I'm funny," he said, a slight flush to his cheeks that remained when his lips thinned. "Although I  _ am _ very used to being laughed at," he muttered. Her brows pinched. 

"People laughed at you?" She admittedly didn't quite  _ get _ how royalty worked--that's not how things were done in the South, and she'd never, ever understand letting one family live so opulently while their people went hungry by the  _ thousands _ \--but mocking a Prince seemed like something you weren't supposed to do. (At least, not to their face.) 

"I'm pretty sure it was my sister and her friends' favorite sport." Katara made a face. 

"She has friends?" Zuko snorted. 

"I guess  _ lackeys _ would be more accurate, but Mai and Ty Lee have been around since we were little." Those names sounded familiar…. Oh! 

"You mean Circus Freak and Stabby McKnives?" Zuko made a strange face. 

"That's… probably them?" Then, quieter, "Have you actually been  _ calling _ them that?" 

"Sokka came up with the names, but, uh, the pink one who's creepily happy all the time with the punches that can block your bending--that's Ty Lee?" He nodded. 

"So then the gloomy one who looks like she's about to die of boredom and has a million pointy things hidden in her sleeves is Mai." He smiled ruefully. 

"That's a fair assessment." He looked strangely melancholy, and Katara felt the stirrings of guilt. 

"Sorry, were they your friends, too?" He sighed. 

"Ty Lee sent me a letter, once, for my 15th birthday." Katara raised her eyebrows. 

"And…?" While nice, that wasn't exactly an outstanding declaration of friendship. He looked at her sharply. 

"And it was the only letter from home I got in three years, so I… appreciated it." Oh. She… didn't know what to say to that. 

"And Mai…" he sighed again, shaking his head. "I don't blame them," he confessed. "They were assigned to be Azula's friends, and she does  _ not _ share. Trying to be too friendly to me would have… ended badly, for everyone." Spirits, every new thing she learned about the Fire Princess just made her more of a nightmare. She was stuck on another point, though. 

" _ Assigned _ ? What does  _ that _ mean?" 

"You know, proper families in good standing would offer up their daughters as respectable playmates and later, bodyguards, to have an 'in' with the royal family. Ty Lee and Mai got picked because they could handle Azula, and she… found them the most useful? I guess." She just stared at him. She'd always known the Fire Nation was backwards, but. 

"Zuko? That is  _ messed up _ ." He just shrugged. 

"That's just how the Fire Court works." Katara shook her head. 

"So how come none of  _ your  _ assigned friends or whatever sent you letters?" He sneered a little. 

"What makes you think I had any?" 

"You just said Ty Lee sent you a letter!" He shook his head. 

"No," he clarified, "what makes you think I had any friends?" 

Oh. 

That was… Very sad. 

"Didn't any of those fancy families have sons?" She asked a little desperately. He looked at her flatly, as if he couldn't understand why he needed to explain something so obvious. 

"I was a failure long before I was actually banished, Katara. There was no favor to be gained from getting close to someone who would never amount to anything," he said bitterly. Katara's jaw dropped. What kind of-- Who would tell a kid--

"You're not a  _ failure _ !" She protested. There was…  _ so much wrong _ with everything he just said, she hardly knew where to start. Zuko crossed his arms, shoulders coming closer to his ears. 

"Let’s see,” he said sarcastically, “just off the top of my head: the whole world wants me dead, I let Uncle get captured, and I'm awful at bending. How would  _ you _ describe someone like that?" 

"Okay,  _ first _ of all, you are  _ not _ a terrible bender!" She poked him in the chest, then had to bite back a laugh at the hilariously affronted expression he gave her finger. He'd already admitted to being sensitive to being laughed at and she had a point to make here. He was  _ so wrong _ and she just couldn’t leave that be. He scowled at her. 

"Azula is a  _ prodigy _ . How can you think I'm any good in comparison?" Katara blinked. 

"Uh, who said anything about comparing her to you? What, you think you're either the  _ best _ or the  _ worst _ , with no in-between?"

"I don't think I'm the  _ worst _ ," he grumbled,  _ extremely unconvincingly _ . Spirits, had anyone ever told this boy "good job" in his life? She rolled her eyes. 

"Do you think  _ I'm  _ a good bender?" she asked. Zuko stared at her in confusion. 

"What?" 

"Do you think that I am a strong waterbender," she repeated, fairly certain of his answer but strangely nervous he'd say 'no'. 

"Yes…?" He said warily. "You're one of the most talented benders I know," he said plainly. Katara felt flush at the simple praise, but pushed on regardless. 

"And yet Aang is two years younger than me and a much stronger bender. He could certainly beat me in a fight,  _ if he ever fought me seriously _ ," she finished with a mutter. Zuko blinked at her, but she continued. 

"So, since I'm not the  _ best _ bender, does that mean I'm bad at it?" Zuko pursed his lips as a struggle took place behind his eyes, his reluctance to call her weak after he'd just declared the opposite fighting with his seeming inability to think positively of himself. Finally, he just said, 

"It's different." Katara groaned. Why was she constantly surrounded by dumb, stubborn boys (and Toph)?

"Look," she said, "did you or did you not beat me at the North Pole?" 

"... The first time. When you hadn't had as much training," he reluctantly acknowledged. 

"Not  _ much _ more. I was only two weeks out from my mastery at that point, Zuko." He blinked owlishly. 

"... You're a Master?" 

"You're not?" Katara was honestly surprised. His face turned bitter.

"No, I've only just passed the basics. Of course  _ you _ are, though--you're a prodigy, too--novice to master in less then a year…" Katara grit her teeth. She would make him stop feeling sorry for himself even if she had to  _ water-whip it into him. _

"And again, Aang learned even faster than me.  _ Obnoxiously _ fast. With way less effort." She poked him in the chest again. "You think I didn't bust my ass getting as good as I have? I had to fight for the right to even  _ be _ trained, the North thinks women are supposed to stay in the healing huts." She took a step closer to him, and he backed up into the wall. 

"And another thing! I don't know what kind of test firebenders have to pass, but those were  _ not  _ 'basic' forms I saw you using yesterday. And now that I've fought both you and your sister, guess what?" She poked him again. 

"Even if it was under different circumstances?  _ She _ never beat me.  _ You _ did." She leaned back, folding her arms. "And so what if bending didn't come as easy to you as it did for other people? The fact that you got as good as you are  _ anyway _ even if it took longer and took a lot more  _ work _ just means you're skilled  _ and _ determined." 

"So," she nodded. "Just remember that the next time you want to call yourself a weak bender, okay?" Zuko was staring down at her in astonishment. His mouth opened and closed several times. 

"Okay," he finally croaked out. 

"Great!" Katara smiled, pleased. 

"Ahem," a throat cleared to her right, and they both whipped around to see Toph, not-staring at the two of them with raised eyebrows. 

"While I hate to interrupt…" she gestured between them, "whatever's happening  _ here _ , you're kind of blocking the stairs." Katara saw Zuko's face take on a pink tint even as her own cheeks warmed. They'd stopped at the landing when Zuko had nearly tripped down the stairs and got distracted talking. Somehow, it had seemed more important than her hunger. 

"Sorry," they said together, then hastily shuffled apart to make way for the tiny earthbender to walk between them. She snagged the hem of their clothes as she passed, pulling them along behind her despite their protests. 

"I could hear how hungry you were a floor away, but if I leave you two on your own you'll never make it to the grub," she explained. Then she faced back towards them with an evil grin. "Maybe you'd even get so  _ hungry _ , you'd stop mouthing  _ at _ each other, and start mouthing  _ on _ each other." Her tone made it  _ very _ clear she was not talking about cannibalism. 

Zuko spluttered and nearly tripped down the stairs again, and Katara despaired that her only other female companion had been primarily socialized by hordes of crass, rough-edged Earth Rumblers. 

Unwilling to fight the stubborn earthbender when she was taking her where she meant to go anyway, and too flustered to continue her conversation with the ex-prince, she settled for watching him from the corner of her eye. 

Maybe he hadn't changed, not really. Maybe he had always been this awkward, funny, self-deprecating grump beneath the bluster and the rage, like a wounded animal just trying to defend itself. Maybe it had been desperation that had caused him to lash out at everyone, and not meanness.

Regardless, whether his previous behavior had been a mask or not, he could still return to it if people only treated him with spite. He was so obviously used to unkindness… 

So yes, she would keep an eye on him, just in case. But she would try her hardest to understand how his upbringing had shaped him, and not to hold his past actions against him, now that he was working to be better. 

The scent of cooking fish and rice found them before the noise did--the sound of dozens of separate conversations and clinking dishes came into focus as they approached the mess hall. 

Toph let them go at the door and waltzed right in like she owned the place, somehow causing grown men twice her size to make way as she made straight for the food. Katara stood in the doorway for a moment, watching. To her left behind a wide food-laden counter was a kitchen-like area, with pots and pans and knives hung on the wall above odd, steaming metal machines. A couple of Water Tribesmen she vaguely recognized were standing there, busy cleaning and gutting some of the fish she had smelled cooking.

But the larger part of the room, to her front and right, was filled with long, narrow metal tables, each with two equally-long metal benches—bolted to the floor—for sitting. About half of the tables were full, and she spotted her brother sitting at the second-closest table to the door. Her Dad and Bato sat on either side of him.

She heard footsteps click behind her, and she saw Zuko's hand grip the doorjamb from the corner of her eye. He was close enough that, despite the too-warm air of the dining hall before her, she could feel his body heat warming her back.

"Katara, do you think… " He started, but trailed off.

Probably because everyone in the room was now staring at them. In the sudden hush of silence that fell, she heard Zuko's breath catch.

Oh, yeah. Her relatively good mood plummeted. She'd almost forgotten that despite  _ her _ resolution to give Zuko a chance, and Toph's easy acceptance, everyone else on this ship kind of, sort of, hated his guts. 

(Maybe his earlier dramatic declaration that the whole world wanted him dead wasn't  _ entirely _ exaggerated.)

(That wouldn't happen, though. She wouldn't  _ allow _ it.) 

Katara looked her father straight in the eye, and he held her gaze unhappily. She glared at him in warning.

_ Don't you dare make a scene. _

He didn't make any move to stand or call her out, though, and she turned away from him before she could read any more of his expression.

Her footsteps seemed unnaturally loud as she strode forward, walking with her head up high and her vision fixed on the little buffet laid out on the far side of the room. The few men who did meet her gaze as she walked past them immediately looked away, and said nothing.

Smart guys.

Halfway there, she heard Zuko start to follow behind her. It was still almost unbearably quiet in the room, and she could still feel the stares of the Tribesmen. If possible, it made her stand up even straighter.

_ No shame, no fear.  _

She snapped up a plate and a pair of chopsticks--(why chopsticks, Fire Nation? They had so much  _ metal _ , why not use some of it to make actually  _ practical _ utensils?) 

Then she slapped down a pile of rice onto the dish with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Some steamed vegetables and a greasy filet of mystery fish went atop the rice, and she didn't bother with a ladle for the sauce—just used her free hand to bend the sweet-smelling concoction straight out of the bowl and onto her plate.

Toph had sat down at the same table as Sokka, but Katara didn't think Zuko would want to eat at the same table as her father. Frankly, right now? Neither did she. So she turned around and marched straight down the aisle between the two rows of tables, not stopping until she reached one of the few empty ones near the back of the room. She set her plate down on the edge of the table, and folded herself stiffly onto the bench.

The sound of her chopsticks snapping apart soothed her slightly, for some reason. Perhaps minor acts of violence had always soothed her, though for most of her life this had come in the form of doing chores  _ aggressively _ thoroughly. It was no coincidence that days that Sokka was especially tiresome meant the cooking pot got  _ really, really _ clean. 

She picked at her food, chewing and swallowing without really tasting—she was far too hungry for that. She looked up with her mouth full, chomping angrily, scanning the room with disdain. Then she spotted Zuko, plate in hand, standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. He was glancing around the room nervously, obviously looking for a safe place to sit. Katara sighed loudly, reminding herself that he'd never had friends and she hadn't actually invited him to sit with her, just expected he would follow. 

"Zuko, just sit down," she said, pointing towards the seat across from her. Everyone who had finally gone back to minding their own business was now staring at them again. Her jaw clenched.

Zuko walked forward slowly, hesitantly, as if he were a lone turtle seal sliding past a pack of porcupine-wolves. He sat down stiffly across from her, his face as drawn and set as a statue. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a good thirty seconds and waiting before opening them again and starting on his food.

Neither of them said a word, and as they ate in silence, the quiet around them dispersed, conversations and chatter picking up again, though not nearly as loud as before she and Zuko had entered the room.

She swallowed a particularly salty piece of fish and coughed. She made to grab for her glass of water…

Which, she realized then, she had forgotten to get.

"Urgh," she growled, and her dining partner looked up from his plate.

"What?" She sighed. She was going to have to get up and walk across the room to get a drink, and draw attention to herself again.

"Nothing, I just forgot to get a drink." He looked at his own section of table. 

"Oh. Eer, so did I," he said sheepishly. Katara sighed--was it too much for people to actually  _ ask _ her to do things for them, instead of just making their needs known and expecting her to do it anyway?

"Fine," she mumbled, "I'll--" 

"--I'll get you a drink, too," Zuko said, rising and walking past the wall of judgemental blue eyes to fetch two cups. The chatter had died down again, but Katara hardly noticed. 

"Uh, here you go," Zuko said, setting a cup in front of her. He hunched over a little as she stared at him. 

"What?" He said, defensive. 

"Uh. Thank you," Katara said faintly. 

"You're welcome," he said. 

It wasn't a big deal. It was a simple task that had taken less than thirty seconds, and she had been perfectly willing to do the same for him. 

So why had it thrown her so off-kilter? 

What was this little flutter in her chest for? 

(She knew why. It  _ was _ a big deal--maybe not to anyone else, but it was to her. Because she was always the one that helped others. And she was proud of that, she was! 

But people never did things for her.  _ Never _ . Not without expecting something in return; not without her asking first, and only half the time when she did.) 

When clothes needed mending, food needed preparing, hurt feelings needed soothing, or wounds needed tending, her little family turned to her without question… Or thought. 

Was this a one-off? Or if-- _ when _ \--Zuko became part of their team, would these little gestures become commonplace? 

(Hope was a dangerous, double-edged sword. It was probably unwise to hold onto it for something like this. And yet…)

"No really," she continued, " _ thank you _ ." He looked perturbed by the intensity of her gratitude--which, fair. 

"You're… really welcome?" 

Her reply died somewhere in her throat when she glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of someone moving towards them. She frowned, sitting up straighter. Zuko copied her frown and turned, following her line of sight. He stiffened.

Walking towards them slowly and with purpose, was Hakoda, her father, and the person she least wanted to deal with right now.

He stopped in front of their table and looked down at her. "Katara, we need to talk."

"Oh really? It can't wait  _ fifteen _ more minutes until we're finished eating?" She asked venomously. Hakoda's eyes narrowed, perhaps taking in the 'we' of her statement. Zuko seemed to shrink a little in his seat.

Her father crossed his arms. "I think you can multitask," he said dryly.

_ Or you just wanted to wait until I was in front of the whole tribe before you laid down the law, as if that would make me back down _ , she thought. 

"I've already waited way past morning, and we need to address this as soon as possible," he continued. As if  _ her _ being exhausted from  _ fighting a war _ was  _ inconvenient _ for his timetable. 

Her chopsticks nearly snapped in half beneath her white knuckled grip. He was her dad. She loved him. 

But his tone? Was a little too reminiscent of the men up north. 

And she wouldn't stand for it. 

Katara took one last bite of her food, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. She took another long drink of her water, all the while ignoring her father. Zuko was very deliberately still across from her. Somehow she knew that meant he was more nervous than if he'd been fidgeting. 

She set her chopsticks down with a careful click, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled in a sigh. Then, and only then, did she acknowledge her dad.

"Then talk away, dad." She stared up at him defiantly, flexing her hands in her lap, keeping them still.

Because she was aware of every drop of water in the room right now, and knew a single sharp gesture would have them answering her call. 

She hoped she wouldn't need to. But if dad tried to get rid of Zuko, even after she'd explained why they couldn't? Then things were about to get ten different kinds of ugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko, with barely enough self-esteem to fill a thimble, being double-thanked for a glass of plain tap water: is this what Uncle meant when he said thirsty women would be extra nice to me


End file.
